


let me lean on you - i'll need it soon.

by dreamiegfs



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Romance, Implied Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Mild Language, Slow Build, zuko has a secret passion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24946369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamiegfs/pseuds/dreamiegfs
Summary: modern/college atla au. zuko + sokka come from different social groups, with zuko being the son of the university's founder, with a detailed plan ahead of him set by his father. but after meeting, they begin to cross paths more often than not + a bond forms. through it they learn how to lean into each other through thick + thin. vulnerability is learned, earned + created through family tensions, tough love + a bit of artwork.
Relationships: Sokka & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 35





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah it's zuko x sokka bc i like them n i kinda like the ship. this shit is gna be long + will have some mild language (soft curse words) but there will be no explicit content, given that (despite being older in this) the characters in the source material are young teenagers.

The school was old, but not secluded. Autumn’s season had provided decent enough weather for the beauty of campus to be obvious, to both the students and those who peered through the gates, yet some parts of it had remained untouched, opting to adopt and hold onto Summer’s existence just a while longer. Founder Ozai had made sure of this - his family being used to a certain climate, their skin not thick enough for winter’s harshness but cool enough for the sun’s warmest rays. Autumn showed itself around the dorms, the four adorned by colors and symbols attributed to the different students on campus (green, for those from the Dìqiú region, red for those from where Founder Ozai and his family lived, the Huǒ region, and so forth). The grass had become a slight orange color, with the trees beginning to bare themselves of their orange-red leaves, creating tiny piles that tempted students to step on, each crackle of a leaf underfoot satisfying enough to put smiles on their faces. The wind was soft and gentle, like a cool kiss. And Autumn had shown itself on the students themselves - tank tops replaced with sweaters and shorts finding home in students’ wardrobe, jeans and sweatpants taking their place.

With the arrival of Autumn, the students had welcomed another addition to their campus. The founder’s brother, Iroh, had offered to open a tea shop for students. A small place where they could join together, to sit and work - something campus had lacked since its development, and something it had lacked until then. The proposition was left alone for a while. And then a decision had been made:  Iroh's tea shop had opened, and students had flocked to it like bees to honey. They always thanked him, his tip jar - marked with  _ welcome, but not expected!  _ and they knew he meant that - always overflowing. Their lips moved when they saw him: a toothy grin, words of gratitude ("thank you for opening this place, Iroh" and, "we really needed this place, Iroh") pushed through their throats as tea and coffee was pulled down. And they were comfortable. Iroh's shop, which had been affectionately dubbed just that,  _ Iroh's Shop _ , never needing to be called anything else, was warm. A hug in the form of metal walls and a burnt orange couch pushed against one of them, black-and-white photos lined against shelves in a fashion that was familiar, but distant at the same time. Here, students allowed themselves to become bare. Here, they allowed themselves to be  _ seen  _ \- their insecurities becoming distant friends left at the doorstep and ushered away while  _ they  _ kissed their lips to brims of steaming mugs and  _ they  _ laughed with wide mouths and  _ they  _ learned to accept themselves, layers and all.

Most students had found a home within the doors of the shop almost immediately, turning the red couches into their second homes and beds, curling there with their laptops in their laps and a hot coffee or tea in between their palms. Most students arrived just at the cusp of the sun fully setting - which wasn’t an issue, with Iroh choosing to open late and close even later. When he had, finally, rewritten the chalkboard sign that he lovingly placed in the front of his store, and when he had, finally, unlocked the door with a click that was both silent and incredibly loud, the waves of blue, then green, then red and orange flooded through and found their seats and formed their patient line, until the wave calmed into a tide, feet pushing through, then pulling out, of the shop until it was calm and nearly empty once more.

Sometimes, though, this refused to happen. The wave-tide of students began, and then abruptly stopped as if disrupted by some great force. Sometimes, Iroh would glance up from behind his counter, a washcloth soaking with cleaner in hand, and a smile - wide and toothy - would break on his face at his nephew who had walked through the door. It was rare to see him by himself, unaccompanied by his sister and the group of girls who followed her around. In fact, it was rare to see him  _ at all _ , if ever, as he’d never come close to the tea shop, much less considered himself a patron. Distance came between him and his uncle as quickly as closeness had disappeared, and his father had pushed him to become something greater than  _ he  _ was. This meant separation from his uncle. This meant coldness towards his shop, towards the students who visited frequently enough to know the menu by heart. This meant a disruption in the wave-tide of students, himself the causation of sudden silence, littered by a few rushed and too-close whispers. But Zuko had made himself present, just as he had done - and Iroh would tell his usual customers, “so many times I can count them on one hand!” - a few times before, and the silence was a reminder of how he did not belong there. How his existence in that space was a phenomenon in itself, and how his face was unknown, though known at the same time. 

But he had never stayed long. A simple order, repeated every time, a few words uttered under his breath, the coffee placed in his hand and paid for. And then he would turn around and leave, nothing else said and no one else looked at; and after he had gone, the wave-tide would start back up, students would become engrossed in themselves and those around them once more, and the shop would return to normal.'

* * *

Zuko’s family was built from wealth. Rumors about them claimed that they bathed in rubies, that their mouths were made of gemstones and diamonds. Their homes were made of pure gold and silver - but the fancy kind, not the cheap sterling kind found in costume jewelry. The family, which the Huǒ region was named after, was well-known for good and bad, but more so bad than anything else. Legends had created themselves, either by their own word of mouth or the tongues of others who had claimed to be hated by them, or watched by them, or recruited by them. Whatever the truth, everyone knew and understood that they were powerful. The Huǒ family was among the elite, with loved ones and distant relatives in every social circle and profession imaginable. Their roots went below the Earth’s surface and even further, and their blood had touched against everyone and everything.

Founder Ozai’s wealth, and his status, had given him the burden of a legacy. Or, he thought of it as such. His children were failures, or he confided in his closest “friends” such. Only one of them had potential to be something bigger than he was in his prime, though he wished his son had that type of promise. But he depended on his daughter, Azula, for success, to carry his name when he passed, and have children who also carried their name when  _ she  _ passed. Zuko was too small-voiced. He was too weak, too combative or not combative enough. His temper was explosive, and Ozai would have none of that - and end to his outbursts came swiftly, when Zuko was thirteen years of age. And Ozai was proud of what he had done to discipline his child, despite how Zuko holed himself away after, despite how his son shrunk away from his words and stern voice. How his lectures showed themselves on Zuko’s face as immense pain and grief, though hidden away with a scowl. But their family name was important, Ozai had told him. And to be born in that family, to bear the family name, to  _ still exist  _ within the family - that was honor, and there was power within that honor. So Ozai had established himself as the headstone of his household, and any questions against him ceased; Zuko was left with a nasty scar, a reminder of punishment.

The opening of the school, Ozai-Huǒ University, was a part of his wealth and status. With the university, Ozai promised a diverse and rich school, affordable - which it was, more or less - for everyone who could attend, yet selective in who it chose to accept and even more selective in who graduated. Still, it remained the first choice on many students’ college applications, and it remained the most popular and recommended university in the city. His children were the first to attend, both Azula and Zuko destined and bound to their Political Science and International Relations majors, but slowly other students had begun to apply, and more professors were brought in, and other departments were created. There were trends in who chose what major, and what department, Ozai had realized. Dìqiú people chose Anthropology and Life Sciences more often, with some choosing engineering paths that led into woodworking and Mechanical Studies. Shuǐ people were more drawn to mechanics, even more than Dìqiú, and they focused majorly in Architecture, Biomedical and Biological Engineering. Kōngqì people worked more in Art and Art History, Astronomy and Atmospheric Sciences. And Ozai’s people, his children and distant relatives and those coming from the Huǒ region - they fell in love with the majors that promised them jobs in high positions. Legal Studies and Pre-Medical studies, though their practices would be more visited by those who lived in their region. Still, the school flourished in who attended, the alums who sent handsome checks to the university, and the once-in-a-while endorsement from the mayor, who had claimed that the Ozai-Huǒ University had been the greatest addition to the city, and just what the citizens had been lacking in their lives.

Zuko’s family was made of wealth, but it was also made of self-interest. Self-preservation, and remaining who they were: rich, powerful, and feared. Ozai had grown to love this, and he expected for his children to love this as well. So he punished them when they displayed anything else.

* * *

Sokka’s junior year, he had finally declared his major - his  _ actual _ , unchanging, now static major - after nearly two years of wrestling and trying out different things. When English proved itself boring, he tried Astronomy at his friend, Aang’s, request. When that was too difficult, he tried History. And then Biology, and then Classics, and Comparative Literature. During the final quarter of sophomore year, he landed a spot in Professor Lau’s  _ Civil Engineering 1000: What, Exactly, Is Engineering Analysis?  _ course, and he fell in love with the subject. Days and nights, and even weekends, were spent pouring over Professor Lau’s written essays and notes, Sokka rewriting them in his own notebooks and translating them into layman's terms so he could better explain it to those who would listen. Katara had stopped lending him her ear a while ago, her own interest lying with Public Health and Bioethics - but she was happy for him, to see his thirst for a subject grow strong, and stronger still. So sometimes,  _ sometimes _ , she allowed for him to speak to her until he went blue in the face. Until he gasped for breath and nearly fainted from his own excitement.

Autumn meant a hurry to declare, to proclaim to himself - and his professors - that finally,  _ finally! _ , he had decided what he loved and was passionate about. It meant that he had a sloppily written Major Declaration slip that begged to be placed alongside the other students’ who had chosen the morning before, giving Sokka a slight edge that spelled,  _ I’ve thought long and hard about this decision. I deserve a spot in this department _ . He was proud of himself for that, having weighed the options carefully and spent hours pouring through the department’s website if only to find something that struck his interest before boredom set in as quickly as it usually did. And voila! -  _ this  _ was what he had stumbled on, after two years of endless searching and jealousy of his peers. The slip of paper he had was crumpled up, a reminder of his frustration, and the black line where the phrase  _ INTENDED MAJOR:  _ sat was almost erased through, faint markings of black charcoal revealing themselves if the paper was held just right. Nevertheless, this was his path, he was sure of it; and finally, finally, finally, he had decided on something that seemed to be created just for him, something he could nurture and love on his own, a passion he could dwell in and sit with as if it were a friend.

The academic office’s line was long, other students clutching their own respective papers. Their hands shook, the prospect of applying to a department and being rejected, either due to a lack of space or otherwise, fresh in their heads; the school was large - too large - and the amount of students who clamored and almost killed each other for a spot in the departments was almost horrifying compared to other universities. But, the clamoring was worth the education, and worth the prestige of the departments and professors. 

Sokka stood behind a taller Dìqiú boy with a gapped grin and big hands. His own paper disappeared in his grip, though the word  _ Woodworking  _ could be made out when he loosened his hold on it. Sokka peered at him, then sniffed at the intended study. “Are  _ those  _ classes fun?” The question was innocent enough, honest curiosity wrapped around his mind, though the syllables curled with some sardonicism. 

The boy turned his neck, and the bristles on his chin almost stood up at Sokka’s tone. He glanced down at his paper and shrugged his broad shoulders, nonchalant as if he were always aware that this was what he was to pick. “They’re fun enough. Interesting too -  Shí’s a great professor, I’ve heard. She really focuses on the physical side of woodworking, rather than the –”

“Move up.”

It sounded like gravel hit Sokka and the boy’s ears. From behind Sokka was irritance, annoyance from the growing gap between the woodworking boy and the girl in front of him. He said again, “I said: move up. You’re going to ruin the line,” this time a bit more irritated than before. The woodworking boy looked at the voice, and shrugged once more, turning back around and closing the gap, muttering  _ sorry, your honor _ in a mocking, but silent, voice.

Sokka glanced behind himself, a breath inhaled for the words that would follow suit - but his voice fell flat and the words never left his throat. The founder’s son was always seen on campus, but his presence was always a surprise; Sokka refused to show this, and his face became stoic. After a pause, he hummed and took a step forward. “What are you in this line for?” As if he didn’t already know.

“What are we  _ all  _ in this line for.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Revealing Sokka’s question to be unnecessary and already answered.

“Doesn’t mean you’re in it for the same thing,” Sokka replied, another step taken forward with Zuko following behind. He glanced forwards - two people ahead of him, and the slip could be given over and he could leave back to his dorm. “Is your dad overseeing this? ‘Cause I thought you’d already had your shit worked out for you. Y’know, with your dad being.. who he is and all that.”

Zuko shifted his weight, almost uncomfortably. He fell silent for a time, then jutted his chin - another gap between the students had opened up, and it was Sokka’s turn to move. 

They both moved forwards, Zuko still silent.

Soon, they both handed their papers to their intended departments, and moved out of line. Zuko moved ahead of Sokka, ignoring his movements and almost tripping him over. Then he turned his head, and said, “Sometimes - my dad doesn’t know what’s the best for me. But yeah. He’s got my  _ shit  _ worked out for me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another installment of this fanfic! tw for drinking, and mild language! i hope y'all enjoy this :)

“Is that all he said to you?”

A small quiet, and then a grunt, and then more silence. 

“Sokka.”

His head rose slightly, his eyes rolling at his sister, then fell back down. Sokka had called her to his room – an emphasis on  _ his  _ room, on  _ their  _ conversation – after walking back from the academic’s office. If asked what about, she wouldn’t be able to give any specifics: he had called her out of breath, saying no more than, “my room. Now. Thanks,” before hanging up. And here they both were, after twenty minutes of Katara struggling to pinpoint just  _ where  _ Sokka was before he stopped at his room, Sokka’s bed covered in packaged snacks and his body laying upside down, the crown of his head touching the floor. 

Katara sat across from him at his desk, her legs crossed at the ankles and her hands busy with a trinket Sokka had brought from their home. Sokka’s name hung in the air as it gathered in her throat again, and she prepared to say it, more impatient, more eager to learn  _ something  _ other than his silence. Her right leg kicked away from the left, her heel digging into the white-fluff rug that was at the foot of Sokka’s bed - dangerously close to where his head rested. A silent threat -  _ don’t say anything, and my foot will hit something important _ . “Sokka.” A bit more impatient. A bit more eager to learn  _ something  _ that he was hiding. 

Sokka sighed, loudly, slowly turning his head to look up at her. He blinked, lazily, and his lips twisted into a scowl. “No, Katara. He then turned back to me to tell me about how he got that scar - what do you think? That  _ he  _ would stay around to have even more of the conversation neither of us even wanted to have in the first place?” He hoisted himself so that he was sitting upright, and he stared at the wall in front of him. Light eggshell color, covered with pictures and reminders from home, all in various shades of blue; a few things from Katara; a gift from his roommate Aang, who’s opposite side of the room looked nothing like his own. Another pause, and then he sighed, softer this time. “I don’t know. It was vague, y’know? Kinda ominous, with -”

“‘My dad doesn’t know what’s best for me?’ I think  _ ominous  _ is an understatement.” Katara moved her foot back, crossing her legs at the ankles again. She leaned back in her chair, rocking it back and forth slightly, her chin raising to the ceiling. She released a sigh of her own, then groaned. “I’ve never heard his voice,” she said, moreso to herself than to her brother, a bit of wonder in her words. “I mean, I don’t think a lot of people have. Do you know who he talks to? Other than his sister, I mean.”

“Her little clique, and that’s all I’ve ever seen him talking with.” Sokka broke his gaze from the wall and looked at her. His shoulders moved up, then down, and he extended his hand to point towards his laptop. “Gimmie that,” and when Katara gave it to him, “thanks - I’ve never even seen him smile, y’know? He’s always so… so…” Another groan, and he opened his laptop - a  _ ding!  _ emitting from it - and typed for a moment. His eyebrows furrowed as he focused on his screen, a finger going to hold his chin. Another type, click of the mouse, and a finger grazed over the keyboard to press the  _ Enter!  _ key, and his head snapped up. “His uncle runs the tea shop, right?”

Katara nodded slowly. “What…. are you getting at with that?”

“Does he ever go there?”

“Sometimes. Not really - I’ve only seen him once or twice, but Iroh already knows his order. Makes it before he even gets a chance to talk, even. Are you planning on staking the shop out until he shows up?”

Sokka looked back at his screen, his finger moving against the trackpad a few times, another right-click before he looked up again, this time past his sister. On his screen, he had pulled up a student summary page, Zuko's face right on it. “Maybe. I wanna see if one of his girls who give doe-eyes at him are there, mostly. Get more dirt on him, y’know? They all seem like the chatty type.”

* * *

  
  


Zuko didn’t live on campus, but in a way he did. His family lived in a building that served as the university’s main hub for administrative offices. Made of four stories - making it the tallest building on campus, as well as the one that cost the most money - the Founder’s office was on the second floor, untouched by students and nearly untouched by his own family. The first floor was reserved for administrative offices, receptionists and the faculty deans, who were always busy with checking in with current professors and heavily considering replacing them. The third and fourth floors were reserved for Founder Ozai’s family, as well as the lucky two that had tagged along with his daughter. Their rooms were on the fourth floor, which allowed for them to look down on other students.

Zuko and Azula lived on campus, yes, but they were removed from it, creating themselves away from the normalcy of “student life,” as the other students would have experienced it. 

Azula had found her place becoming president of the Student Government Association (a role her father had said suited her well), keeping company with very few other students. Her definition of “a few” had resulted in only two other students falling between the cracks of her wall - Mai Xiāo and Ty Lee  Dāo, the daughters of Founder Ozai’s closest confidants. Both of their families had created long withstanding relationships with the  Huǒ family, so far that they had been considered extended family for centuries. The girls lived alongside Azula as if the three were sisters, their rooms besides and across from each other, but there was an unspoken rule among them: Azula was the boss, no matter what, no matter  _ who  _ was around. Her presence would command silence from them both, as well as constant - and in Mai’s case, almost hesitant - praise for her accomplishments. This rule served its purpose as much as it was supposed to, with Azula being the leader, as she was  _ born  _ to be, and her friends acting as subordinates. As they were  _ born  _ to be.

Zuko was different. He was alone, his friendships nonexistent. The only other students he spoke to, even in passing, were his sister and her friends.  _ They  _ were his company, although it was more like  _ he  _ listened to them speak, and they ignored him. Or tried to. He tagged along with them due to his sister’s pestering, her joking, but almost-cruel words penetrating him like needles until he was forced to walk around campus with them. Visit the mailroom with them. Stop at Iroh’s shop with them. It was all spectacle, he knew - proof that he wasn’t as much of a loner that people thought he was.

When he returned from the academic office, Azula expected a summary of his trip. She called it ‘sibling chatter,’ something she thought they would both benefit from, especially since, “we’ve been so distant lately, Zuzu. I’d  _ love  _ to know everything - and I mean  _ e-e-everything  _ \- about your trip. Is it as riveting as Ty Lee makes it to be?”

He had just finished tossing his keys onto the kitchen’s counter when he heard her voice, and quietly groaned in response. His hand reached up to rub the back of his neck, then the other hand reached to crack his knuckles. “It was boring.” A short response, cut-and-dry as was expected of him. He turned towards his sister, taking care to slip his feet out of his shoes before he walked any further into the room; then he found a spot in the deep red chair opposite of the couch Azula lay on, and rested his eyes on one of the books in the bookshelf. He knew she’d have more questions, and press for more answers, so there was no reason to leave just yet.

Azula moved closer to the edge of the couch, her nails digging into the black fabric. A smile played at her face, as if she dared herself to dig deeper, to request something that would stun him, make him choke on his words.  _ Not yet _ , she thought, toying with the questions that formed in her head, that sounded more like demands.  _ Let’s wait before we make him squirm _ . “Really, now? Ty Lee told me that the line, no matter how long, was always fun for conversation. Did you have any of those?” No answer. She got a little closer to the edge, and cradled her chin. “Some Huǒ girl saw you talking in line. To some Shuǐ boy, a little shorter than you but - I can see him being about shoulder length. What did you two talk about?”

Zuko reached for a black remote on the glass table, and pressed the ‘On’ button. The television in front of both of them flickered on, and the lowered sound of an old movie began to play. He ignored Azula’s question, turning the volume up into the double digits, his eyes glued to the screen.

Azula giggled childishly, the smile remaining on her face. “Zuzu….” She glanced at the screen, her nose creasing at its base. “What were you and that boy talking about? Oh, and before I forget, did you sign up for the major dad wanted you to do? What was it? Oh, that cute little International Relations thing, wasn’t it?” When this didn’t get an answer from him, she sighed. Her index finger made a circle in the couch, her nail, sharp as a pin, threatened to break it open. “Zuzu?”

“International Relations. You’re right.” His focus on the movie was not really focus at all, the sound of the television just a distraction to, hopefully, drown out his sister’s voice. It’s high-pitched tone made him itch underneath his skin, and he tilted his head so that the ear closest to her touched his shoulder. 

He stared at the movie - a woman, draped in dark grey clothes, lamented about how her lover had abandoned her,  _ in this no-good, washed up town _ , she moaned past her sobs. The man who listened to her, his hat balancing on his head in a way that almost covered his eye, groaned to himself and moved closer to the woman. His hand gently touched her elbow, his fingers going around her skin, and he pulled her - not so gently - to his chest. She followed his movements and her arms went to his shoulders, comfort found in his not so gentle embrace. He told her to forget about  _ that other man _ , to live in happiness, in “pure bliss, baby!” with him. He wiped her tears, sweetly, and ––

The television switched to black abruptly. Zuko looked towards his sister, who held the remote in her hand, but stared directly at him. “I don’t like being ignored, Zuzu. We  _ both  _ know that.” There was poison dripping from her words, so obvious there should have been a stream from her mouth, a pool of neon green oozing to the floor. She placed the remote on the glass table, her movements too delicate for Zuko’s comfort, and she looked back up at him, her hands placing themselves in her lap. “Now, let’s have a conversation.” An order, rather than a request. Her eyebrows furrowed, then relaxed. A smile that didn’t belong, that would fit better on someone else’s face, played on her lips. “Did you do what daddy dearest told you to do? Or did you skimp out, like always?”

Zuko closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. He kept his gaze on the black television screen, a huff of air leaving his mouth, and then he began to speak. “I –” 

“Azula! You will  _ never _ , never, never, never believe what Iroh’s selling at his shop!” The door swung open, Ty Lee coming through the entrance with a huge smile on her face. Her hands cradled a paper coffee cup that was still filled to its brim with orange liquid, and despite her movements it failed to spill over. “Look,” she quickly walked to Azula’s side and sat down besides her, shoving the cup at her friend so she could see the contents a bit better. “It’s ginger pumpkin brew. The same things we drank back home! He’s perfected the recipe to its greatest,” she paused to sip at the brew, which then turned into an almost inhale, “–– to its greatest extent. You  _ definitely  _ have to check it out, and we can go tomorrow! We can go, and Mai’ll join us. Won’t you?”

Still standing in the entrance, Mai fiddled with her fingerless gloves as if they had suddenly become more important than what Ty Lee had said. She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, turning to move further inside the room, careful to close and lock the door behind her. “I can come.” Her voice was smooth and slow, lacking the excitement that Ty Lee’s bore. The permanent frown on her lips refused to move upwards to resemble anything of a smile, her eyelids drooping slightly before she blinked, slowly. “It’s not like I’ll have anything else to do - especially when  _ you  _ were talking about going. Seven o’clock, Azula. That’s all she talks about.”

“Well, that seems perfectly reasonable, doesn’t it Zuzu?” Azula redirected her attention back to her brother, who, after being granted a few seconds of being ignored, winced at the nickname once again. “Actually, I think we should all go, surprise Uncle Iroh. That’d be so nice for him, especially since he’s not seen us in a while.” She feigned affection towards their uncle so easily, one could easily mistake the tone of her voice for actual love. Her lips pouted in mockery, and she stood from her spot. “Girls, let’s leave Zuzu alone, so he can think about our proposition. In the meantime, I think it’s  _ obvious  _ that we’re all going to the party I’ve heard so much about.”

“The Dìqiú party? I didn’t know we were invited to that!” Ty Lee almost shook with excitement as she stood, stepping on the glass table and then gracefully jumping from it. She took another sip of her drink, then rushed to put it down on an empty surface.

“We weren’t, of course. But everyone loves a party crasher.” Mai spoke up, her voice becoming a bit more excited with the prospect of showing up uninvited, all the attention on  _ them _ and no one else. “I think it’s a great idea - all three of us… plus  _ Zuko _ , of course.” She attached his name as if he were an afterthought - and he wished she had left him out.

Azula grabbed for Mai and Ty Lee’s hands, pulling them towards the hallway. She grinned wider, as if she was preparing a plan in her mind, and said, “We need to get ready, because  _ we  _ will be the guests of honor, forced or not,” then to Zuko, “Be ready at eight, brother dear. We’ll see you then!”

* * *

The Dìqiú boy, his name being Yán, was known for his parties. In fact, the Dìqiú region had the best nightlife out of all of the regions. Their joints and bars, affectionately named The Hard Place, or The Rock, or something earth-related, pulled people from other regions to the cities, capturing the hearts and energies of everyone who visited. Yán was no exception. He was fairly popular, and had a small group of close friends who passed out flyers and spread the word of the “biggest party of the semester.” And for a man with a few friends, far too many people showed up at his house. Red, blue, and yellow swarmed the hallways, drowning out the music that came from the living room, where the main party was being held. The entire house, everyone claimed, belonged to Yán, even if it wasn’t particularly true. Everyone else who lived there allowed their doors to be open because they, too, wanted to be involved in the event. His party slowly became  _ their  _ party, and he didn’t care.

The music was blaring that night, some hit single from some popular Shuǐ band. The beat was fast, the lyrics faster, and everyone moved their bodies along with the beat, some of them lip-syncing to the best of their ability. For the most part, groups began to form in different corners of the room. The Bomb, as Yán had called it, had begun to run low and was on the verge of being replaced with something a bit stronger. Everyone held a red cup in their hands, everyone took long sips, and everyone swayed off their feet, a little dizzy from their drinks. 

It seemed that at least half the school had showed up, or it seemed like that to Sokka. He had dragged his sister with him, the both of them sticking close to each other lest they needed a quick get away - until Katara struck up conversation with a Dìqiú gentleman who had accidentally - “accidentally,” Sokka clarified, with air quotations - bumped into her. She stood with him near the juice coolers, her mouth wide with a smile, a laugh leaving her every once in a while. Sokka drifted around, squeezing between every sweating body, nursing his cup. It was a while until he saw a familiar face - “Hey! You’re in my engineering class!” she’d said - and allowed himself to relax, to enjoy the music and dance in tune with her. He’d barely caught her name over the loudness of the music, Suki Bǎozàng, and failed to catch anything else she’d said. She said some words, her voice drowned out, and he nodded once, twice, thrice, until she was grabbing his hand and leading him to somewhere quieter.

“Do you wanna dip?”

“What?” Sokka downed the rest of his drink, then crushed the cup in his hand. He’d not heard her say  _ that _ , the words hitting his ears as if they were brand new. “You wanna leave? It’s not  _ that  _ boring, now. Sure, it could be better, but…” He trailed off, lost for words as he looked at Suki again, her eyes looking into his as if she was waiting for an answer - but the one she wanted. “We could, if you want, honestly, I’m down for it.”

Suki’s eyes lost a bit of their intensity, and she grinned widely, placing her own cup down on the floor. “Great! I know this great food place around the corner, it’s got the best seal jerky that you’ll have ever tasted. I just need to find my bag, and my keys, and then we can… well, we can get outta this joint, and have some quiet!” 

“Honestly, that’s amazing,” Sokka looked up at the ceiling and then closed his eyes, almost talking to himself. “I’d really love some peace and quiet for once, y’know? My party animal sister, she dragged me -” He looked back to where Suki was, or where she was standing before. It was like she’d vanished before he could blink, and when he looked around he couldn’t see her or make her out anywhere. He moved back into the crowd, pushing through the bodies again, mumbles of “excuse me, excuse me,” leaving his mouth. When he finally got to the entrance of the living room, he saw the host standing in front of some students dressed in red. He wouldn’t let them past, his own glass bottle of Dìqiú beer in his right hand. Yán said some words to them, his voice increasing in volume as the girl in red stared him down, a smile still on her lips. Her arms crossed over her chest, the ruby necklace glistening, and she nodded absently, as if she were actually listening to Yán speak.

“You weren’t freakin’ invited, Azula, you can’t just.. show up here with your damn posse,” Yán spoke quickly, more irritated and annoyed than inebriated. He held his ground sturdily, his hand gripping the glass bottle tightly. “You all have to leave. I’m not having  _ you  _ or any more Huǒ at my party. I’ve already got seventeen - and that’s right, I  _ counted _ \- here, and no one’s started smashing or making a mess of things yet. You think I’m gonna let that change now? Hah, bite my ass, Azula. Get outta here.”

Azula watched him as he spoke, and she almost laughed. Her hand reached for his shoulder, and she gave him a small pat. Pity, mocking him. “Oh, Yán – you know I don’t care. Me telling you that I was here was just a courtesy announcement.” Her grip on his shoulder tightened, and she shoved him aside with her full strength. Yán’s feet moved, and he tripped over himself, the path open for them to move further into the party. 

They were all dressed as if  _ they  _ were the ones who were throwing the party. Casual in dress, but adorned in jewels that no one would dare take from them. Their jewelry glistened when hit just right with light, blinding. Mai was the first to move away from the door, going to the juice cooler and plucking a cup from the shrinking stack. Ty Lee shimmied her way into the crowd, her shoulders moving along with the music, and she began a conversation with some boy who had caught her attention. Azula and Zuko attached themselves to a wall, made empty by the way other students shrunk away from them. Azula crossed her arms and looked around at the crowd, surveying it as if looking for a victim. “You know,” she began, raising her voice so he could hear her, “I’m glad you came with us. It wouldn’t be the same without my dear Zuzu here.”

Zuko scoffed, his back hitting the wall behind him, and looked away from her. “As if I had a choice. You would’ve dragged me out of the apartment, the least I could do was come willingly. Besides, maybe it’s nice to see other students…” His gaze passed through the crowd, then landed on the boy he had spoken to earlier. He was talking to a girl dressed in a long blue skirt and a white tube top, who was nodding vigorously to whatever he was saying, taking one of the two cups from his hand to sip from and then handing it back. Zuko watched them for a while, unaware that he had stopped talking to his sister. In the moment, it felt as if the music had dulled down temporarily, and the room had gotten a bit brighter. At least… at least…

“Zuko. Zuko… Zuko! What the hell are you -” Azula followed his gaze to the man, but to her, he looked a lot more like a boy than anything else. The way he moved, she noticed, was a bit awkward, but he carried himself with confidence. Enough confidence to catch her brother’s attention. “Is that  _ him _ ? The guy you spoke to in line?” She spoke low, but loud enough for only Zuko to hear. The way she smiled, once again, refused to belong to her face, and she pushed herself from the wall and towards the pair. 

Zuko watched her move, but felt unable to stop her. The music had become unbearably loud again, and his sister’s movements were entirely too fast. He watched as she opened her mouth to address the boy, and then address the girl next to him. The girl shrunk away almost immediately, quickly taking her cup from the boy’s hand and walking off. Then, Azula pointed towards her brother. The boy looked as if he were going to choke on his drink. He rubbed the back of his head with his free hand, and then waved at Zuko. He couldn’t bring himself to wave back, and instead looked away, further pressing himself against the wall. After a while, his sister returned to his side, her smile wider than when she had left him, her hands behind her back as if she were innocent. 

“I’ve made you a new friend, Zuzu. I’ve got his name, and a few other nice details. You should be thanking me, honestly - I’ve done something good for you, made you more likeable, presentable.” She spoke as if she were praising herself, her hand reaching to press against her chin. “You should go talk to him, brother. The way you looked at him… dreamy, isn’t he?” Now she mocked him, a feigned sigh leaving her lips before she chuckled to herself. 

Zuko remained quiet, looking at the floor. He didn’t know how to answer. He knew that he had looked at the boy too long, but there was  _ something  _ about him. Something that drew Zuko closer, that made him feel like everything else around him was dulled. Something -

“He’s waiting for you, Zuzu.” His sister’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he finally looked at her. She was looking towards a Huǒ boy who was also staring at her, making his way over to their corner. Azula moved away from Zuko once more, and her smile became soft. “You should make a friend. You’ll be much less grouchy then.”

And then she was gone, leaving Zuko all alone, and the boy still a few feet in front of him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all!! this chapter's a bit short but that's because i'll be rereading all of it to get back into the groove of writing smthn! anyways, this is just a little sokka x zuko taste.... but it's brief!
> 
> anyways i hope y'all enjoy it!! xoxoxo  
> also: the next chapter will focus more on zuko!

The music was too loud and too fast, with not enough time to breathe before the bass dropped, sending your stomach to the floor with it. The DJ did her job well - everyone kept themselves busy on the floor, moving to get closer to her and whisper song recommendations in her ear, before bouncing their shoulders to whatever she played and sliding back to whoever had caught their attention. The house was dark, its’ corners barely luminated by purple fairy lights and the occasional bathroom light that was switched on and off. The smell of sweat permeated off the walls and off every single body that walked past Sokka, strong enough that he was convinced that it’d be hell to try and wash it out of his outfit - if he even thought about trying. 

That was his list of excuses, if he and Zukko were to stare at each other in silence any longer. He planned to walk off, act like he didn’t even see the boy, even though it was  _ obvious  _ that he did. It was obvious that he had just had a conversation, despite her aggression, with Zuko’s sister, and it was obvious that she expected for them to both talk to each other; and she had made it clear, in some way or another, that if he didn’t follow through with this, he’d might as well consider himself dead. So when Azula moved from his side and went back to her brother, he remained stuck in his place. Azula looked towards him, Zuko’s gaze following suit, and Sokka waved feebly, dropping his hand and almost crushing his cup when he didn’t get anything in return. 

Suki hadn’t come back to his side, probably because she found it safer to stay away from him while Azula was present. Probably for the best anyways, though he was beginning to miss her. After Azula had gone to play around with some stranger, Sokka allowed himself to look around for Suki, a huff of air leaving his chest as he released a breath he had been holding. The music was too loud and too fast, and the people around him moved too slowly - or maybe that was from the juice he was drinking. He couldn’t see her, or make out anyone who she had hung around with before bumping into him. But, maybe that also was from the ––

“Hey.”

Sokka’s head whipped around, a yelp almost leaving him when he heard Zukko’s voice. Too close, too fast. He took a step backwards, some distance put between them, and he nodded towards the boy. “Hey…. Zuko.” His name was an afterthought, pinned onto the greeting as if Sokka had  _ just  _ remembered that he had one. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the ground; though he couldn’t see her, he  _ knew  _ that Azula was watching both of them. “Y’look…” Sokka’s pause was accompanied by a quick glance at Zuko’s torso, then back up to his face. He shrugged, not knowing how to finish what was  _ supposed  _ to be a complement. “You look…. is that what the Huǒ region’s wearing these days? Real fancy, y’know. Me, I like to stick to cool blues, whites, y’know.”

The music had all but drowned out what he was saying, and his gaze had left Zuko’s face and gone back to the crowd, the DJ, the pulsating lights around them.

“Yeah.” Zuko spoke over the music, but he still sounded faraway. He avoided looking at Sokka’s face, looking at the ground, and then the ceiling, and now at himself. He tugged at the short sleeves of his shirt, then the drawstring on his pants. Suddenly he regretted forgoing a more party-esque pair . “I-I mean no. I just… Azula dragged me here, I thought it-it’d be fun to - y’know -  _ rebel _ .” Loud silence, and then he coughed, then cleared his throat. Sokka looked at him, his face blank. “Listen. I’m sorry for my sister, uhm, she can be  _ a lot _ and I know that. Just. Whatever she said? It was probably really inappropriate, y’know? I mean, your girlfriend -”

“Suki’s not my girlfriend.” Sokka’s face remained blank, the denial coming quick, too clear against the music for Zuko to miss.

A pause, and then Zuko dragged in a breath, and shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I just thought -”

Quickly, “Well, you thought wrong.”

“Well, I’m trying to apologize,  _ okay _ ?!” 

Some students glanced towards them, confusion and concern written on their dimmed faces. Zuko’s face was burning from embarrassment, and he thought he heard Azula chuckling nearby. His body felt tense, the anger he held onto nearly boiling his blood, and his fists were clenched. “I’m  _ trying  _ to apologize,” he tried again, slower this time.

Sokka’s expression hadn’t changed. He still watched Zuko, shrugging his shoulders. “Sure, okay. I forgive you.” Even though the apology hadn’t come yet, he wanted to move past the subject. Suki still hadn’t shown back up yet, and it was becoming more and more apparent that she had probably left without him.  _ That’s fine _ , he thought.  _ I’ll just be here, having a conversation with Anger Management _ . He sighed, his head shaking. “Your sister didn’t say anything bad. Well, not as bad as it could’ve been. She told me she -”

Zuko stopped him quickly, waving his hand as if to say  _ I don’t wanna know _ . “Whatever Azula says, I’d rather keep it with her. My family had to learn that the hard way.” He smiled to himself, his thoughts returning to his childhood, of his mother finding herself frustrated with whatever ‘news’ Azula had chosen to give them, out of spite or otherwise. “There’s always some hell coming behind her words, y’know?”

At that, Sokka chuckled lightly. “Yeah, I get that - a regular wildcard, huh? Maybe we should trade sisters, if you want someone who’s not as outlandish.”

“God, I wish!” Zuko was chuckling himself, but looking around, lest his sister was listening in a little too close. “I’d  _ pay  _ for Azula to go a day without intentionally trying to piss someone off.”

They both exchanged chuckles, and the air between them had shifted slightly. From distant and cool to a bit warmer, their faces barely able to be made out by each other. The laughing came to a stop after a while, and the music of the DJ came back to their ears. The beat was a bit less loud now, and the floor was still crowded and sweaty. Students stepped off the floor to refresh their drinks, and then immediately hopped back to the beat of the music, their cups sloshing around them and barely missing anyone else.

Sokka looked at an empty spot on the floor, then at Zuko. “Any chance you can dance? As well as me, I mean… I’ve got some of the sickest moves ‘round Shuǐ.” He started shuffling towards the spot to make a point, his body moving easily with the music.

Zuko followed suit, not quite moving as Sokka was, not really dancing, but swaying himself and jutting his neck to the beat. “Ah, probably not as good as you, but.. I can try to keep up.”

They both found themselves on the floor, the smells of punch and faint sweat exploding in their nostrils before the two found the scents easy to block out. They moved around each other, doing their own variation of everyone around them: feet tapping on the floor, the occasional few minutes where everyone would yell the lyrics of an older song, every beat of the music punctuated with a movement. Songs passed, and what felt like minutes passed quicker than they had thought. The floor had become less sweaty after a while, with more people packing up to leave, muttering about tomorrow’s class. The DJ had finally decided to play his last song, and Zuko and Sokka had begun to run out of steam, their bodies slowing as the DJ started up for the last time of the night. 

“Oh, y’know what, you never told me.” Sokka said after a while of silence, both of them unsure of what to do after spending how many hours dancing with each other. “Your little  _ Major  _ slip.”

Zuko, out of breath and smiling to himself, shook his head. “Nah, you don’t wanna know. Trust me, you’d hate me for it.” He laughed breathlessly, glancing at Sokka as he reached for a styrofoam cup and helped finish the last of the juice. “You’d  _ hate _ me for it.”

“Try me. Like-like  _ I’m  _ civil engineering. Got the last spot in Lau’s class, real sweet if ya ask me. So tell me: what’s Daddy Huǒ got in store for his sonny boy?”

Zuko cringed, the smile almost dropping from his face. He thought back on his father’s lectures on his legacy in the family business, the three  _ Major Intended  _ slips that he had taken and filled out, hoping that  _ Public Relations  _ would start to feel more natural. And yet… “My  _ shit _ .” His  _ shit _ . He faced Sokka, bringing his cup to his lips and taking a sip before rolling his eyes. “My father has tight expectations, y’know? He wants the best for the region, his  _ people _ \- or whatever.” Another sip, and he met Sokka’s gaze, that had never left his. “And that includes his kids. His children. But, uh, the  _ shit  _ he’s got worked out for me… sometimes it-”

“Zuzu? Quit your flirting, Ty Lee and Mai are outside. We’re ready to go.” Azula stood behind him, her arms crossed in annoyance with keys in her hand. She caught Sokka’s eye, and gave a fake smile. “So sorry I have to cut your sweetness short -” then to Zuko, “- let’s  _ go _ , Zuko. Jesus, you take your time longer than Mai on a  _ good _ day.” She dangled the pair of keys in front of his face, then turned on her heel. “Don’t make me beep twice. You  _ know  _ how much I hate doing that.” 

Zuko groaned inwardly, then outwardly, taking a step away from Sokka - he had just realized how close they were - and glancing towards the open door. “I have to - Azula, I swear to -  _ I’m coming _ !.” That was all he could manage to get out, a singular  _ beep!  _ coming from outside. He turned back to Sokka for a minute, then sighed, then ran out the door.   


* * *

There was still punch in the cooler, even if it was just a drop. Sokka had taken it in his own cup, sipping on it gingerly ( _ i’m experiencing the entire flavor _ , he’d give an excuse if anyone came up to him) as he watched, and helped, Katara and Yán clean up. Sokka had told his sister about his conversation with Zuko, though not the details -  _ we talked, he showed me some cool dance moves. Nothing major.  _ And she would respond with an amused,  _ Okay, Sokka _ . But the details had remained on his mind. In fact, they refused to leave. Some of the details, the smaller ones, like Zuko’s reaching to tug on his sleeves as if he’d been made aware of himself, felt as if they belonged in Sokka’s mind. Like he wanted them to stay there, for as long as they - or his mind - would allow.

“Sokka, you’ve been carrying those streamers for ten minutes.” Katara had glanced at him from her broom and dustpan, a light smile on her face. With a smooth movement of her arms, the sound of crinkling paper and plastic filled the pan. “Don’t tell me you’re -”

“It was a good conversation, Katara.” And just like that, he had discarded those smaller details, Katara’s voice snapping him back to reality. “He didn’t answer my question, but you get what you can get. Pass me that bag.”

Katara passed him a semi-full trash bag, and Sokka dumped the streamers inside. Nothing else needed to be said, but there was  _ still  _ a smile on her face - he could see it clearly. Yán had finished cleaning his corner, and glanced over to them.

“If y’all are done, I can’t thank y’all enough. No idea how I woulda gotten this all done myself.” He spoke gently, and exhaustion threaded itself through his words. Yán tied and double-tied one of the bags, and Katara and Sokka did the same. 

Soon, the two had called a cab and were on the way back to campus.

The car ride was quiet, with Katara humming under her breath and Sokka staring intensely on the road from the right-back seat. His sisters looked over to him, the laughed loud enough for him to hear.

“What?”

“Are you  _ that  _ interested in what he’s majoring in?”

Sokka didn’t answer. He looked out the window, watching the lights and mentally counting how many they had passed until their campus lights were in sight. When the cab came to a stop, Sokka paid for the ride and stepped out, Katara right behind him. On the way back to their dorm, the blue lights welcoming them, he finally shrugged his shoulders. 

“There’s  _ something  _ weird about him, Katara.” Sokka pulled out his dorm card and slid it against the automatic light, a  _ click!  _ emitting from the door. He opened the door for his sister, then walked in himself. “I can’t - hold the elevator, please, thank you - I can’t put my finger on it. But there’s something fishy about him.”

“How so? It sounds like you’ve been going on slightly tipsy hunches all night.” Katara crossed her arms against her chest and looked at her brother. The elevator dinged, and the other passenger had gotten off, the doors closing behind her. “You think he’s lying about his major. You don’t even know what it was!”

“But he was  _ going  _ to lie about it.”

The elevator dinged again, and they both walked off and into their dorm hall. Sokka lived at this first stop, and Katara was a few floors up. At the door, Sokka reached up to grab a marker and erase the  _ check  _ in the box that marked ‘AWAY’ and drew an elaborate symbol near ‘SLEEPING.’ Then, he fished for his room key and slid it into the lock. With a turn of his wrist and a shove on the door, light from the dorm hall flooded the dark room. Sokka turned around, and gave his sister a hug, then stepped in the door. Then, he turned around again, peering at her.

“He’s lying about  _ something _ . It’s a gut feeling, but it’s true.”


	4. preview of chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! It's been so long since I've updated this, but I wanted to give a little preview of the third chapter, which should be out by Sunday! I hope y'all enjoy this!

Ozai knew that something was wrong - and he had found it.

How anyone - anyone - thought that they could go behind his back was beyond him, and the trickery had hurt even more when it came from his own family. However, he couldnt’t say that he wasn’t surprised: Zuko had always been a little different from his sister, his aunts and uncles, even his own parents. He was too sensitive, Ozai thought, too easily influenced by the words of others and too afraid, or unwilling, to stand on his own to get what he wanted. Or needed.

He had splayed his son’s Major Declaration form on the top of his desk, and he stared down at it with blazing anger. The form looked as if it was crumbled up before and then crudely smoothed out, the letters of the major smushed closely together on the small line - but he knew what it said, clear as day. The betrayal was evident, and there was nothing else to be done, lest Ozai wanted to begin what would be a school-wide rumor that would spread as quick as flames.

Nevermind that, or what his son wanted to do. He would allow it for now, until Zuko inevitably got bored of his decision and wanted to follow in the footsteps of something - and someone - a little more powerful. Ozai would wait until he got hungry for the stuff that ran through his veins, until he became a little more greedy, and a little more selfish, and then he would strike on his son.

But this wish... this _desire_ \- a burning thing, painful and spreading through Zuko's body like, Ozai believed, a disease - to major in the arts? No. That wouldn’t do, not in the grand scheme that would be Zuko’s life.

Ozai took the form and tucked it away, opening a drawer and stuffing it inside. It would be in the back of his mind like an itch - until he figured out the right time, and the right place, to make things as they should be.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay chapter four! revolving more about zuko, his major and his childhood.
> 
> trigger warning for parental abuse at the end. i truly feel as if, if zuko's father burned him in the series (which he still does in this fic (i might touch on that later)), he's definitely done worse.

Zuko had returned to their apartments late at night, though not as late as Azula had wanted. At his expressing that he wished to go home, she had spent ten minutes (at least.) lecturing him on ruining his night, and at the same time ruining  _ her  _ night, and then as a consequence, ruining the nights of Mai and Ty Lee. The ride back home, after this ordeal, had been tense and quiet, and there was a sigh of release from Zuko when their car finally opened its’ door and he was allowed to quickly exit and walk to the front doors. Behind him, Azula yelled at the driver to continue on, and the door slammed. The silence of the hallway, as well as its darkness, greeted Zuko. 

“Hello?” He spoke into the dark, taking a step forward, and then another one. Nothing came back to him but the echo of his own voice. In some ways, the silence was welcoming - but in others it wasn’t. The hallway ended, then came the kitchen and living room, both as dark as before. Zuko tried again, a meek  _ hello _ coming from his mouth and once more echoing off the walls. Down the opposite hallway, there came faint footsteps from his father’s office. A signifier that he had been busy in the absence of his children, and he would continue to be, at least for a while. The shuffling was quiet, almost non-detectable, and Zuko had to strain to hear it - but it was there. Still and vague, but nonetheless there. 

Something was off. More specific, something was  _ wrong _ . Ozai had stayed in his office all night, mulling over something he would declare as important for whatever reason he’d give his family. The light in his office had been dimmed and he had been quiet - rustling had failed to make it past the door, any sounds muffled a little  _ too  _ well. Zuko’s mind was racing:  _ maybe _ , his father was going through the papers that had been turned in, the various major or minor declarations that students had dropped by and left in his care.  _ Maybe _ , he was scrolling to find Zuko’s specifically.  _ Maybe _ , he knew that his son hadn’t followed orders, but he just needed to prove it.  _ Maybe _ , he just needed to find -

“Father?”

Zuko’s voice interrupted his own thoughts, his knuckles lightly rapping on the large door that separated him and Ozai. The rustling stopped for a moment, and then began again, no other voice calling out to him. “I’m home. I wanted to tell you that - the girls are still out, doing whatever they can find, but…” His voice trailed off and he stood straighter, clearing his throat to rid it of any signs of tiredness or concern. “But, they should be back later,” Zuko spoke a little clearer, a bit more forceful. After a pause of silence, he said his goodnights to the door, hoping his father would hear him, and continued down the hall. The rustling hadn’t stopped while he spoke, and it continued while he walked away, and Zuko’s anxieties had resurfaced after being put away for a mere few seconds.  _ Maybe, maybe, maybe _ , they swirled in his head and he couldn’t seem to put them out of his mind, and him out of his own misery. Luckily his own bedroom wasn’t too far - around the corner from his fathers office and a door-swing later, he was able to slide between his bedsheets and welcome whatever restless sleep came to him.

* * *

Ozai knew that something was wrong - and he had found it.

How anyone -  _ anyone  _ \- thought that they could go behind his back was beyond him, and the trickery had hurt even more when it came from his own family. However, he couldnt’t say that he wasn’t surprised: Zuko had always been a little different from his sister, his aunts and uncles, even his own parents. He was too sensitive, Ozai thought, too easily influenced by the words of others and too afraid, or unwilling, to stand on his own to get what he wanted. Or needed.

He had splayed his son’s Major Declaration form on the top of his desk, and he stared down at it with blazing anger. The form looked as if it was crumbled up before and then crudely smoothed out, the letters of the major smushed closely together on the small line - but he knew what it said, clear as day. The betrayal was evident, and there was nothing else to be done, lest Ozai wanted to begin what would be a school-wide rumor that would spread as quick as flames.

Nevermind that, or what his son wanted to do. He would allow it for now, until Zuko inevitably got bored of his decision and wanted to follow in the footsteps of something - and someone - a little more powerful. Ozai would wait until he got hungry for the stuff that ran through his veins, until he became a little more greedy, and a little more selfish, and then he would strike on his son.

But this wish to major in the arts? No. That wouldn’t do, not in the grand scheme that would be Zuko’s life.

Ozai took the form and tucked it away, opening a drawer and stuffing it inside. It would be in the back of his mind like an itch - until he figured out the right time, and the right place, to make things as they should be.

* * *

It was 3:00AM when Zuko awoke. His body felt sore, as if a pile of bricks had tossed themselves onto him, his head hurting and pounding. Although his eyes were heavy, although he felt as if he couldn’t sit up, he pulled his body forwards - sleep wasn’t going to happen again, and he knew that. So he threw his legs over the side of his bed, and stood to his feet.

Past his door, the hallway was dark. He was sure that his sister had returned from her late-night party hopping, sleeping through the dull fogginess of her mind that only came with too many  Shuǐ drinks, and preparing herself for the same bag-of-bricks feeling she would eventually feel in the morning. He could see it now: she was smiling to herself in her sleep, satisfied for the moment, happy that her night had gone the way she wanted, despite her brother initially ruining it. Mai had calmed her down, promised her more drinks than she could ever imagine, and even more Huǒ boys she could look at.  _ That  _ would have immediately cleared her mind of her dearest, boringest brother, and she would have forgotten him immediately, her mind set on Mai’s deadpanned words and Ty Lee’s over-abundant excitedness. In some ways, this thought annoyed Zuko. Made him angry at his sister, made his body ache even more. His fists clenched at his sides then, after a moment, he started towards his door. It creaked slightly as he opened it, Azula’s door right across from his, and he stared at the knob before him. He could wake her up right now, confront her for her words, yell at her - attempt to make her feel bad, or feel even worse than she would feel in the morning. But he wouldn’t. Not tonight, not yet.

Instead, he walked past her door, past Mai and Ty Lee’s room, and straight to the elevator. He pressed the button and it gave a soft  _ ding!  _ as the shaft went downwards to their floor. Then, it opened up and he slipped inside, pressed a button that read ‘0’ - the bottom floor, the basement he had been granted for himself.

It was dimly lit, though he was able to make it brighter - he didn’t want to. The floor was sticky in some places, which he didn’t mind, and there was a single window. It was a safe haven for him. His own piece of heaven, with a door that only sometimes opened, that led to the outside corner of the apartments just in case he needed to escape. But there were other pieces in there that lifted his heart - his own pieces, canvases that littered the room and the long table in the middle of the floor. Paintbrushes scattered around, glass jars filled with murky water, some filled with clear water, a small drenched cloth hanging from their rims. Here, in this dimly lit area, with the sticky floor and the door that barely worked properly, Zuko was allowed to breathe a little easier. The air smelled of faint paint, almost disappeared from the last time he went down there. It comforted him a little bit, made his shoulders cease their tensing. He sat down in a nearby stool and waited. Looked at his work, at the paintbrushes, at the jars of water, and waited. Then, he stood back up and grabbed an empty canvas, a few paintbrushes and paints - cerulean blue, a variety of reds and yellows, white and brown - and got to work.

A layer of gesso was applied to the canvas, and then another coat. Then, he looked at the canvas, his mind placing the colors, planning the layers and the smallest details, and he began. A bit of blue at the bottom, then a bit of yellow, and red somewhere. Then some brown, a lighter shade of brown, the brush swiping up and down, then switched out for something thinner, then more strokes.

The sun had begun to peek through the window after a while, the outdoors getting brighter and lighter. He guessed the time - a little past seven, a little close to class-time. He’d skip. There weren’t any classes he would learn anything new in, so he’d skip. Keep painting, keep himself light and happy, until his father began looking for him, or Azula had gotten bored of not having a target. So he continued, this canvas being added to after a few pauses, with a few brushstrokes here and there, a bit more color in this corner, a bit more muted colors in that corner, a brown here, and red there, until the blank canvas had something of a building on it. His uncle’s tea shop, the painted sign with a single teacup, steaming hot as always. The painted sky was bright and almost cloud-less, and the windows gleamed, little heads of students visible indoors, their faces featureless and obscured. But still, it was Iroh’s shop. Bright, happy, peaceful. At least to him. At least to everyone on campus.

He should have been in an art class. Madam Moy’s  _ From Paintbrushes to Pastels: Art 101 _ , something required for him to -

“Father knows.”

“ … He hasn’t said anything.” His reply was slow to come, the end of his sister’s sentence lingering in the space between his back and her forefront for a little too long. He didn’t turn around to look at her, his paintbrush touching against the colors on his palette, swirling them around until he went back to the canvas. He knew that she was walking closer to him, her arms crossed in front of her chest. She was going to be late to class, but she didn’t care: her absence would be excused, if she pulled the right strings, said the right words, gave the right pout. “You’d think he’d have brought it up by now, right? It’s unlike him to keep things in so long.” Another brushstroke, and she sighed.

It sounded as if she cared about him. As if she was  _ worried  _ for him, and then: “I’m concerned for you, Zuzu. Like, what were you thinking -  _ art _ ? You know he’ll kill you, stop paying your tuition… hell, he might even get you removed from campus and sent back home. It’s - it’s almost a betrayal, of sorts. He’d find a way to spin it like that.” Now, he knew that she was looking at her nails, turning her hand back and forth. She was right behind him, a little too close, but he didn’t move. The painting was finished now, waiting its final layer of art resin.

Azula sighed again. “I’m just saying: you need to change it.”

Zuko knew she was right, and yet he didn’t care. He already knew that his father was aware of his decision, to go against what  _ he  _ wanted, what his father told him - no,  _ demanded  _ him - to do. Zuko knew that his father would find some way, some painful way, to punish him for this disobedience - but he didn’t care at all. “I know.” That was all he could muster, at least for the moment. Azula’s hands went to his shoulders, a small squeeze given, and he repeated himself. “I  _ know _ ,” and a little stronger, “I don’t care. I’ve made my choice, and whatever happens… that’s just going to happen.”

Finally, he stood from his seat and turned to her. He met her harsh gaze with one of his own, his paintbrush still in his hand, and he nodded firmly. 

She turned shrugged her shoulders and took a step back from him, before turning around to head back upstairs. “It’s your own funeral, Zuzu. I can’t help you. If you die, or end up missing, I’ll know what happened - and I won’t come looking for you.”

Zuko knew she was right, and that terrified him. He watched her leave around the corner, then yell back at him, “Nice painting, by the way. Show it to uncle for me!” before silence. The ding of the elevator echoed in the hall, and then nothing else. 

Zuko looked back at the painting, his decision going through his head. For once, he was confident in what he had done - so why did something feel wrong?

* * *

He was five years old when he began painting. Something about it - maybe it was the way the colors went across the paper, maybe it was getting his hands dirty - calmed him instantly. The art removed him from his father's wrath and rage, the way his mother (who accompanied him in his work) always, for some reason, looked so sad whenever she looked at him and Azula. It made him smile, for once, and he wanted to hold onto that. For his tenth birthday, he had asked for an art set, and his mother had bought him the finest one she could find. She gifted him professional paints, despite his young age, but she had proclaimed him to be a prodigy at the stuff. She swore that he was better than any painter she had seen and met, allowed him to create portrait after portrait after portrait of her, and she treasured every one of them. Soon her face covered a small section of her bedroom walls, all done by her son, all loved and admired by her, and all hated and disapproved by her husband.

Ozai had recommended, harshly, moving him away from the arts. He didn't need a soft son, he didn't need a boy who cried when his red paints were wasted by his sister. He didn't need _kindness_ to show through him. He wanted hard power and a harder heart. He had ordered for Zuko to throw away his paints, and when he didn't, Ozai had did it himself. In the middle of the night, he had guards knock down Zuko's door violently, and seize his paints. The canvasses he had bought and been given, the pictures of his mother that he had spent hours drawing, the paintbrushes and the few charcoals he had spent hours gazing at. Everything was taken, and Zuko was ripped from bed and brought before his father. 

Anger radiated from Ozai's face, a violence behind his eyes that Zuko had never seen before - and wouldn't see again for years after. A small fire was between him and his father, and he was made to kneel in front of it. Ozai stood in front of his desk table, looking down at his son. He grunted with disapproval, with disappointment or something deeper. "You always do this, Zuko." His voice was low and angry, his son unable to look up at him. "Look at me, son."

Zuko didn't move. His eyes remained shut, opening occasionally - whenever his father had gone silent - to glance at the floor. He shook slightly, restraining himself from doing more, lest his father got angrier.

"Look at me, Zuko." Ozai's voice got louder and he stepped closer to the blazing fire, the flame almost reacting to the sound of his voice. When his son refused to look, he snapped his fingers. Two guards immediately stepped behind Zuko and took him by both arms, lifting him from his knees. One guard roughly lifted his chin, and Zuko finally met his father's gaze, his own vision blurring. His father began again. "You _always_ do this, Zuko. Disappoint me, make me feel like a failure of a father - a disgrace. You're my only son, and yet... and _yet_ , you choose to do wrong and disobey me."

In the guard's grasp, Zuko trembled more, but he wouldn't allow the tears to fall. He wouldn't show that amount of weakness, not now nor ever. "I-I'm sorry, father. I'm so sorry, I didn't m-mean anything by this.. I really -"

"Be quiet. You'll only make me more angry." A pause. Ozai glanced towards the fire, then back to Zuko. "You're going to put these... _things_ in this fire. And you're going to watch them burn. Do you understand that, son? And afterwards, you're going to focus on your studies. You're going to _work_ to earn my trust back. No more of this stupid nonsense, no more of wasting your - and _my_ \- time. Do you get that?"

The guards let his arms go, and Zuko stood alone. He looked at the fire. He looked at his father, the the pile of his art, prized and beloved, before him. Then, he nodded. 

"I understand."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day??? omg this is amazing.
> 
> anyways this chapter focuses slightly on azula + her feelings towards her mother, as well as hatches a plan between sokka and her. there will be more azula and sokka later on, but this just.. establishes their interaction, as well as future interactions!!
> 
> i hope y'all enjoy it!

Fall had begun to slowly, carefully, prepare itself to turn into winter. The months bled from September to October, the leaves falling a bit more steadily, the breeze becoming chiller. Iroh’s shop still continued to bustle, with him adding newer and warmer drinks to his menu, the heat in the building giving the patrons a warm glow to their cheeks. It was midday when the students began to form their own little groups, their hands tightly hugging the mugs and foam cups to their chests, each talking mouth pausing for a moment to take a long sip and savor the taste of their drink.

Sokka and Katara had stationed themselves at the bar near the front entrance, which gave them a clear-as-day view of the street in front of the shop. Bikers pedaled past the shop, taking their time to slow down and glance indoors, as if tempting the thought of stopping - at least for a moment - to grab something warm to snack on. Two bikers had accomplished this, one of them exclaiming very loudly to Iroh, once he had finished making the order of lemongrass tea, that he was running  _ despicably  _ late to class, and that Madame Yan would skin him if he were late for the third time that week. Sokka and Katara had listened in on the ordeal, stifling their giggles to themselves as the biker ran outdoors and nearly dropped his tea attempting to balance himself on his bike and sip at the same time.

The shop’s buzz had died down a little bit, with a few students lingering to do homework. Their headphones were in their ears and the notebooks and notepad paper had begun to fly, passed through their hands in the forms of secret cheatsheets and already-completed math problems. Katara herself had begun on her homework, taking extra care to tell Sokka the name of the class -  _ Studies in Bioethics _ \- and just what her assignment was. He was only half listening, able to pick up certain aspects of the one sided conversation, and only able to repeat half the aspects he had picked up. He was occupied, and though his notebook was open, the engineering textbook he had rented from the library ready to be read and understood, he couldn’t focus on it. His mind kept wandering back to Zuko, to the details he had told himself over and over again to forget, the way he held his declaration form as if it were a secret - something he was, at least partially, ashamed of. But what could it have been? Everyone on campus knew what the Headmaster’s kids were majoring in, or were going to major in. It couldn’t have been anything other than something that would lead to dictatorship or some stuffy politician job, right?  _ Right _ , Sokka confirmed to himself, and he looked down at his textbook. The numbers swirled in his head, mixing with the symbols that were present in every paragraph, every section, but… and there Zuko was again, standing behind him, glaring at Sokka with that stupid look on his face, tugging on his stupid sleeves, speaking in that stupid deadpanned voice.

“I’ve got a problem, Katara.” He spoke seriously. He wouldn’t give her all the details of what he was thinking. Not yet, at least. But, he thought, she should at least know  _ something  _ about what he planned to do. 

She glanced up at him for a moment, then turned back to her notepad. Her notes were written out neatly, as to be expected of her, with a light blue header at the top of the page. “What is it? Because based on what I can see, you’ve not started  _ anything _ , and you have class in - what? - an hour, two hours? Lau’s gonna be so mad at you.” Katara paused her lecture, her eyes scanning her own textbook for a moment before she wrote down a couple more notes. The bullet points she made were small enough to be missed, but large enough to make the notes almost uniform, her eye for detail never faltering. Finally, she turned her full attention to Sokka. “But anyways, what’s the problem?”

Sokka swallowed hard, then looked towards his sister for a moment. Then, he looked outside. On the sidewalk, he saw Azula waiting for the lights on either side to turn red. He could see her smile from where he sat, and could almost  _ feel  _ the excitement she felt. He hoped she didn’t come into the shop. He hoped –– “Y’know how I said that I thought Zuko was lying?”

“You can’t be still on this. The party was weeks ago, you’ve gotta put it behind you.”

“Yeah well… I kinda can’t.” Sokka’s voice went to a whisper. Azula had begun to cross the street, and he couldn’t risk anything getting out. “I’ve asked around, searched for folks who don’t know Zuko personally, because, let’s be real,  _ nobody  _ knows him personally. But these people know  _ of  _ him, and they know folks who know folks who know  _ other  _ folks who know Azula.” The bell of the shop rang, and he glanced up - Azula had walked in, and was sauntering over to the counter to order something. Sokka looked back at Katara, who was staring at him intensely, waiting for him to finish. “Anyways, I talked to some folks, and they say that Zuko hasn’t been in any Political Science classes. Like, he’s not even shown up for  _ attendance _ . How crazy is that?”

They both looked at Azula, who seemed to not be paying attention to them. She was watching her phone, scrolling through whatever app and then swiping her fingers against the screen quickly. Katara watched her for a moment, then looked to her brother. “What are you… Sokka, what are you implying… because we both know Zuko’s father, and we both know  _ who  _ he is, and  _ what  _ he does. Why would he - why would Zuko Huǒ lie to his dad? The most powerful man on this campus, and maybe the world?”

“I don’t know, Katara. I don’t know. Shame? Embarrassment? Maybe he picked the  _ worst  _ major he could possibly pick, and he feels so terrible about it that he’s just pretending. That makes sense. I just… you believe me.”

It didn’t sound like a question, but it was one. Sokka sighed heavily, his mouth twisting into a grimace. He looked up from his sister when she didn’t respond, and caught Azula’s eye. She was watching him, still grinning, as if she’d ––– Sokka’s heart dropped to his gut, and suddenly he felt sick: she had heard every single word, held onto every single syllable that he’d spoken right then and there, and now… and now, she was aware of what he had thought, what he had began to conspire. Quickly Sokka turned away from her, moving so quickly that his knee knocked against the table and he winced in pain. 

Katara looked at him pointedly, then shook her head. “If we end up missing,” she began, a sigh of her own falling from her mouth, “at least some people will know what happened.  _ This  _ is exactly why we don’t make up any theories or anything about that family - you know that, and you still do it! You still do it, and you wonder why I don’t talk to you about these things.” She looked at the watch on her wrist, then moved to put her books back into her backpack. They both moved to stand, pushing their chairs back underneath the table and bringing their mugs to the cleaning station besides them. Katara looked up at Azula, who was still watching her brother closely, that grin still on her face. “She looks like she wants to talk to you,” she spoke quietly, turning her back so that Azula couldn’t see her lips move.

Sokka did the same, advancing towards the door, when his phone pinged. When they were both outside, he fished it out of his pocket. A message had come in from an unknown number:  _ we need to talk, xoxo _ . Immediately he knew who it was.

“It seems as if she does.”

* * *

For her brother, Azula would do anything. Well,  _ almost  _ anything. For instance, she wouldn’t jump in front of a bus for him. She wouldn’t kill anyone for him, nor would she risk her own neck for him. However, she would cheat for him if he asked her to, and she would be more than happy to scare anyone away who was bothering him - but that was all. Besides, he never asked for any of those favors, nor had he ever asked for anything at all. It was because he was afraid of her, just like everyone else. Just like their mother was. But that didn’t matter - she was a stupid woman, anyways, and she deserved what had happened to her. And stupid women are just that: stupid. And naive. And not worth her time.

So why was she acting like one, herself? To harbor such a secret from their father - though she knew that he already was aware of it, so that it wasn’t much of a “secret” after all - was already a death sentence, so why did she do it? She liked the power it gave her. The ability to ruin her brother’s life in a quick instant. Just a few words whispered to daddy dearest, just five minutes of her time, and her brother’s career, both in university and out of it, would be over before she could say, “goodbye Zuko!” But just for this moment, the secret was hers, and it would stay hers for as long as she could handle it. She would keep her pastels and oils to herself, for  _ that _ was something her father didn’t know about, nor would he ever know about it. He would be kept under the impression that his son had converted the basement to a secret study room, or a man-cave of some sort, until Azula turned to him and said  _ I have something to tell you _ , and the words came tumbling from her mouth.

For now, she would plan behind her brother’s back, and behind her father’s back. For now, she would notice the unnoticeable, and do the unthinkable, to benefit herself and embarrass Zuko.

The minute she saw that Shuǐ boy and his sister, she had instantly recognized them. She followed them through campus until they had reached her uncle’s shop - something she had inwardly groaned at - and got settled. She was glad they had picked seats with such a nice view, a way to know that she was coming, and she made sure of it. When the boy looked across the street, Azula was sure to be looking right at him. She saw the way he tensed, how his eyes widened a little too much, and how he quickly looked away. And when she had entered the shop, and his voice dropped, she couldn’t help but chuckle to herself. She liked the power, the fear that climbed whenever she stepped into the room. She liked feeling bigger than she was, more intimidating than she believed herself to already be. It made her feel less stupid, less like her stupid, naive mother, and much more like her father.

“Hello uncle,” her nails tapped against the counter as soon as she reached him, her smile mirroring his kind one. She glanced up at the menu, though she didn’t need to. He was already making her a warm brew of black coffee, asking her questions about school, about his brother, about Zuko. She answered them all truthfully - “it’s going well, some of my professors are real pieces of work.” “father’s the same as always. You know how he is: type, type, type.” “Zuzu… he’s doing  _ better _ . You should come by one day, see us all, spend time with your family -” until he was satisfied with her answers, and began to hum to himself. Behind her, she could hear quiet whispers. Remnants of the conversation rang in her ear, her brother’s name coming up once, then again, and now she was fully interested. 

Her phone’s browser was opened almost instantly and she went to type in the school’s student database. Then, as if on cue, she heard his name.  _ Sokka _ . It was typed into the database, and his picture immediately came up, his phone number and email address right there with it.

Iroh placed the hot cup in front of her, giving her a little “it’s on the house, dear” before going to attend to the mess behind him. Azula made sure to thank him, her manners shining past her disdain for him, and she turned around. The two had gotten up from their seats, cleaning up after themselves, until Sokka looked at her. Their gazes met, perhaps a little longer than she would have wanted, and she stared. Watched the back of his head as he and his sister walked out of the shop, the door closing behind them slowly, and then she went to work. Azula copied his number onto her phone, and texted him quickly.  _ We need to talk, xoxo _ . Outside, he stopped and glanced at his phone, before looking at his sister. His mouth moved quickly, and then started across the street.

Bingo.

The truth was this: she would do anything for her brother. Not anything, exactly, not even  _ almost  _ anything. But she told everyone, even her closest friends, that she would do anything for him. They were the best of friends despite anything anyone saw between them. Despite the harsh words she told him, delivered in the meanest, most nonchalant way she could muster. Despite the way she laughed at him whenever he failed. Despite everything. She  _ loved  _ him, and wanted the best for him. More than anyone else. More than their mother. But right now, right in this instant? She would savor this feeling of control. She would relish and bask in how it felt to have him in her palm, whether he knew or not, whether he liked it or not. He was at her mercy, and she wouldn’t screw that over.

At the end of the day, she had sent Sokka an address to meet at. It was in front of a house, long abandoned and forgotten by the city, by her father. She arrived by car, and he was already waiting for her. He looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t gotten a wink of rest all day, but she didn’t care. Azula took her time to get out of her car, to tell the driver to wait, that this would only take a minute.

“Well? We’re talking.” Sokka sounded impatient, which made her frown deeply. She hated being rushed, hated the feeling of being on someone else’s time. She looked at her nails, pretended to take his words into consideration, to allow them to go from one ear to the next, before he began again: “Azula. I’ve been waiting all day for this.”

She hummed to herself, a bit amused, a bit annoyed. After another check of her nails, she dropped her hand and crossed her arms over her chest. Her weight shifted to one leg, and she stared at Sokka. “All day? It’s only been a few hours, but I guess that’s just how boys are, hm? Always wanting things  _ their  _ way, never caring about what the  _ lady  _ wants.” She pouted slightly, then crinkled her nose. “Ahh, it’s sad. To be so invested in my brother, so caught up in him and his doings, that you didn’t even stop to consider me as a resource?” Azula paused, studying his face for a minute: irritation wrote itself all over, and she hated it. For a moment, she felt stupid. She felt small, as if her power had gone out like a light. She craved for him to look afraid, to look  _ something  _ other than impatience. “I know what he’s doing.” She continued, a heavy sigh coming after.

_ This _ caught his attention, she knew. He had immediately perked up, his back straightening from its’ slouching position, excitement meeting his eyes before it met the rest of his face. “Really? ‘Cause if he’s lying, and I know he is, then it’d be great to ––”

“Patience, darling. I want something from you first. I don’t give out information for free.”

And there it was. The fear that she wanted came to his eyes, then made his mouth droop into a frown. The stupid feeling had gone away. She felt like her father again: powerful, strong, cruel. 

Sokka was quiet for a moment. He looked at her face - unreadable. But she had information he wanted. Needed, almost, if he were to fill in the cracks his mind refused to forget about. After a long pause, he shrugged his shoulders. “What do you want? I can’t give you any money, now, I’m pretty broke. But I’m looking for a job, so maybe we can strike a deal? I’ll give you ten percent, every month. That seems fair, right? … Right?”

Another pause.

“No, you stupid boy.” Now, it was her time to be annoyed. Azula rolled her eyes at him and his suggestion, then took out her phone. Swiping through her photos, she finally picked one and showed it to Sokka. It was a girl on campus, her hair a bright red color, and her clothes a very muted red. She was Huǒ. “This is Liena. She’s a transfer from God-knows-where, doing God-knows-what –– I don’t particularly care. However, I  _ do  _ care about what my brother thinks of her.”

Sokka nodded his head slowly, then looked back at the photo. He’d seen her around, though he didn’t care much for her. She was sweet, their shared General Education class being the only class they had together, so the only time he really got to talk to her. “Okay…” he egged Azula on, waiting for her to come to her point.

“I want you to tell her that my brother likes her. That he wants to talk to her, but doesn’t know how to.” Azula watched Sokka intensely, watched as his eyes got big, then returned to normal, and she smiled wide.  _ Is that a tinge of jealousy? _ “You do that, make sure she embarrasses herself in front of him, in front of everyone when he rejects her - because he will. Do this for me, and I’ll tell you everything I know about our dear Zuko.”

He thought about it for a moment. Then another moment, then another. Sokka’s gaze flitted from the screen, the picture of the girl, and back to Azula’s face. Finally, he nodded. “It’s a deal. But  _ only  _ because I want to know what’s up with your brother.”

“Good.” Azula tucked her phone back into her pocket, then took a step backwards. Her hand touched the doorknob, and she slid back inside against the leather seats. “I’ll expect some progress in the next day or two. I want to be able to see her pupils dilate from a mile away when she sees my brother.” The door shut, and her window was rolled down. “Oh –– and don’t text me. If I need you, I’ll text  _ you _ . I’d hate for someone to see your name pop up in my notifications.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka’s eyes wandered around, bouncing from Zuko’s neck to the desk behind him - the back to Zuko. His skin had flushed from being punched and the pain that had followed suit, and he had opened his mouth to breathe easier, a low groan coming from his lips ever so often. Then, Zuko repositioned himself, his jaw - a bit less sharp than Sokka had thought, but still - lowering slightly as he sat up gently, then sat back dow. Sokka’s phone buzzed besides him, its’ screen illuminating to show a large picture of whoever had just texted, and both pairs of eyes immediately turned to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! we've got a new chapter up! hope y'all enjoy!

“He’s never here. You’d think the Headmaster’s son would  _ care  _ about his classes, but… maybe that’s a privilege of, y’know, being  _ him _ .” 

Sokka had gotten this answer almost six times, from six different people. It’d seemed that the overall opinion of Zuko was that he was pompous and distant, spoiled but not in the way his sister had been. From those who called themselves a little  _ more  _ than an acquaintance, they said that he was hard-hearted and even more stubborn. He hated his father. Loved his mother. Felt impartial about his sister. It was unneeded information, but still good information. Actually, every bit of “intel” that Sokka had gathered had been unneeded, unimportant, getting-you-nowhere information that did nothing to soothe his growing interest. After every conversation, after Sokka had pressed anyone he spoke to for more information, they would shake their head in dismay -  _ that’s all I know _ . 

He could have asked the girls Azula was always followed by, but that meant he would also have to ask Azula; too close to Zuko, too up and personal, and a much larger chance of running into him, having to explain what he was doing with his sister. Sokka couldn’t risk that, nor was he interested in staying in the same room as Azula and her small clique, for information or not. The bare bones that he got from everyone else would have to do, at least for now.

At least until Azula had contacted him, met him late at night and gave him what could only really be called an “assignment,” if only to mask what it actually was: Azula wanting to embarrass someone she barely knew, someone who nobody had seen before, only this time she wouldn’t have to get her hands dirty. She would be able to enjoy it, but she wouldn’t have to be directly involved - instead, the blame and harsh words would fall into Sokka, and he would have to deal with the consequences on his own. The stakes were already high, but it seemed as if they’d gotten even higher with that little piece of revelation. Still, he’d already made his bed. Katara had told him that she hoped that he’d already picked out his own coffin, that he was swimming too close to the very people who would drown him in an instant. Through her jokes, though, there was actual concern, he’d felt it; still, he didn’t care. Some things had caught his attention, kept him up at night and kept him wondering and thinking. This little detail, however small an unimportant it was, was one of those things, and he wouldn’t let a chance to get the truth pass him by.

She had wanted the plan to happen sooner, rather than later. There wasn’t any deadline, and it was difficult to tell with Azula if she was in a rush or not, but he had decided that it was better to do it today, rather than wait any longer. Who knew when he’d be able to do it again, when it’d be  _ this  _ easy - especially since Liena was so close to him?

She was right across the lawn between the science building and the arts hall, a few hundred feet away from him; a girl dressed in green was on Liena’s left, pushing sliced oranges into her mouth and laughing heartily whenever Liena said something with a laugh of her own. Both their legs were crossed, touching the grass that waited just past the corner of the blanket they both shared, and occasionally one touched the other on the arm, regaining her attention to whatever had struck them as momentarily hilarious. She looked sweet. A little too sweet, especially concerning Zuko - but maybe that was Azula’s point.

Sokka began to walk over to the two, his backpack slung over his shoulder and a hand in his pocket. When he came a bit closer, Liena and her friend had stopped laughing and watched him approach, their smiles plastered on their faces. Leina nodded her head at him, beckoning him closer. “Hey - Sokka, isn’t it?” When he gave an approving nod, she turned back to her friend and they both giggled to each other, their smiles unchanging. “So, what is it? What brings you this far into the lawn?” And then after a little while, and a bit of thinking, “you don’t have a class right now.”

“Oh, well actually, I’m here to tell you - do you know of Zuko?”

“Well, doesn’t everyone know  _ of  _ him? He’s, like, only the most elusive guy on campus.” Liena shook her head and gave a wider grin - it was fake this time, a little bit forced as she slowly ate another orange slice. “What about him?”

Sokka looked to her, then at the ground as if he contemplated sitting or not. Deciding against it, he sighed exaggeratedly. “Well, you’re new here right -” he paused, she nodded “- and I’ve heard him talking about you, as he does, saying really nice things about, and he was wondering…”

“What, he likes me or something?”

“… Yeah…” Sokka shifted uncomfortably, then sniffled. “Is that an issue?”

“Well, you see -” Liena’s voice drifted off as she looked up past him, then smiled widely. Her eyes drifted back to Sokka for a split second, and another orange slice went into her mouth. The girl by her side gently nudged at her shoulder, a laugh coming from her own mouth. Liena spoke loudly, and too sweetly: “ _ Hey _ , Zuko.” Another giggle, then she lifted her hand to give the boy a quick wave, then she glanced at Sokka, who had immediately gone stiff and began to stare intently at the ground when she spoke Zuko’s name. Liena stood from her blanket, her hands going to dust off her legs, and she gazed with almost admiration at Zuko’s face. “My new friend, Sokka, was telling me about you…” She went to stand a little closer to him, one hand reaching out to touch his arm gently. “D’you know what about?”

Sokka couldn’t bring himself to look up, not while  _ he  _ was so close. Zukko’s name had made his blood run cold and his palms go warm - though he didn’t get why. Suddenly, he’d discovered, the ground looked far more interesting than watching Liena flirt, and it made listening to her flirt a bit more bearable; and then she’d mentioned his name. His head snapped up immediately, skipping past Zuko’s face and landing on her wide smile. “What?” The word came out forcefully, as if he’d been holding it back for quite some time. “I mean, I-I was talking about you,” and a shrug towards Zuko, his eyes still on Liena, who had caught his gaze, “but it wasn’t anything important.” From the corner of his eye, Sokka could see Liena gently rubbing Zuko’s arm, her fingers gently pressing against his upper arm and then going down to his elbow. Her head tilted to a side, and she watched Sokka, and then returned her eyes to Zuko, who had been staring at her the whole time, his own eyes widened.

Liena continued: “Yeah, he was saying that  _ you _ …” and she reached to gently touch Zuko’s nose, her friend giggling again at this action, “liked a certain  _ someone _ . And that someone… happened to be me.” Removing her hand, she looked to Sokka. “Yeah?”

Sokka nodded, then subtly looked around the group, just to see if Zuko’s sister was watching. She wasn’t anywhere that he could see her, but he didn’t doubt that she didn’t have her eyes on them. On  _ him _ .

Zuko had remained quiet for some time. He looked to Liena’s friend, then to Liena, then to Sokka. “Yana has a textbook of mine,” he spoke quietly. Liena’s friend looked right to him, then nodded eagerly, giving her own  _ that’s right, that’s right!  _ to his words. “I just came to get it,” Zuko finished, shrugging his shoulders and taking a step back from Liena.

“Oh -” Liena furrowed her brows, her mouth fixed in an “O” shape as she struggled to find the right words to reply with, leaving the group in silence. “Well… Sokka was telling me - so -”

“ _ Liena _ !” Breaking her from her thoughts, and the silence of everyone else in the group, Liena’s name was screamed angrily from across the lawn. The group looked over: a blonde-dyed boy in a leather jacket marched over to them, his eyes bloodshot and big. He kept his hands clenched into fists which remained still at his side, and he kept his eyes on Liena, who had taken a small step closer to Zuko, the smile returning to her face. “Liena, I swear to -”

Zuko immediately stepped away from the girl, who worked harder to keep the distance between them as small as possible. Sokka could do nothing but watch as Zuko lifted his hands and began to release an explanation.

“Hey, hey, hey, I didn’t know this was -”

“Are you flirting with him? Are you  _ flirting  _ with him?!”

“God, Tao - you’d think he was killing me or something!” Liena scowled at the boy, her arms crossing against her chest. She looked at Tao, then back at Zuko, who had successfully moved himself a few inches away from where she stood, and pouted. “Besides, if I  _ was  _ flirting with him -” she moved her hand and it landed right where she wanted it to rest.

A finger touched to Zuko’s chest, and she finished: “what would you ever do about it?”

Tao flinched, almost invisible to everyone, and then his right arm swung - as fast as lightning - his fist, which collided right into Zuko’s nose. Pulling back, he looked at Liena, who had stepped away from Zuko and smiled endearingly at Tao. “I’d do  _ that _ .” He huffed out his words, as if the single punch had allowed all of his previous anger to melt away, and that left him breathless.

The girl hummed, then stepped over to him, a small glance casted at Sokka. “You’d better get him and your own ass somewhere else. You don’t just  _ lie  _ to folks like that - I thought you were the nice guy,” then to Tau and Yana, who had stepped aside to put their food and blanket away, “let’s go. We can finish this inside.”

The three walked off after a moment of Yana packing her backpack, with Liena muttering kind words to Tao, who was explaining his momentary anger and making a quick promise of “working on it.” This left Sokka here alone, his task completed (or failed?), and Zuko sitting on the grass, clutching his nose between his hands. “I think it’s broken,” he groaned out, keeping his hands out of the way so any blood could go into the grass and not stain his fingers.

Sokka sighed, waiting for a minute. Then, he looked down at Zuko and held out his hand. “It’s not broken, just bruised. I can help patch it up, if you want. But you don’t have to, y’know? I’m sure you have really fancy bandaids, in your really fancy -” Zuko took his hand and pulled himself up, and Sokka felt his fingertips jolt alive as if he were gently electrocuted. His thought was lost almost immediately, his mouth left hanging slack as Zuko began to walk in the direction of the dorms. “You… you know your way.” Sokka attempted to make feeble conversation as he followed behind, his hands clasping behind his back, desperate for something familiar to hold onto.

“Yeah. I know where the dorms are.” Zuko answered dryly, his voice muffled behind his hands. He looked at Sokka, who immediately looked away, then kept himself facing forward. “I hope you know how to patch up a nose real good, because it hurts as…” his voice trailed off. He waited for Sokka to say something, but nothing came. 

When he noticed the silence, and when they were already fairly close to the doors, Sokka laughed gently and ran ahead of Zuko, taking his keycard from his back pocket and swiping it against the door’s keypad. With a loud  _ click! _ the doors were unlocked, and he was able to hold it open for Zuko to go inside and give a quick, “the elevator’s on your right!” and then “I know how to fix a  _ bruised  _ \- not broken - nose, which your nose is: bruised. Well, I hope it’s just bruised.” The two got into the elevator, and Sokka pressed the button to lead them to his floor. He glanced over to Zuko, who was still holding his nose, still wincing every now and then in pain, and he felt the slightest chill run through his body. Another feeling of electrocution, though nothing had happened. 

Suddenly the elevator stopped and dinged, the doors opening, and the two exited and turned down the hall. Sokka’s room was empty, with Aang in class, so they’d be uninterrupted while Zuko got a little icepack for the swelling. “Here we are,” Sokka turned his key in his door, and swung it open. 

Zuko walked in first, then Sokka, who closed the door behind them. “It’s cute in here.” It was something of a compliment, though it didn’t sound like one at first. Zuko looked around and nodded, throwing a glance at Sokka before standing in the middle of the room, only sitting down when Sokka gestured to the desk chair behind him. “They’re a lot smaller than the apartments - well, of course they are, but I didn’t really expect that.”  
Sokka didn’t answer for a moment as he was busy going through his belongings, shoving and removing packages and boxes until he found the bright blue first aid kid that he’d smuggled away from his sister’s things. “We don’t all live in the height of luxury, you know,” he explained slightly annoyed, moving from the floor to the bed, sitting directly across from Zuko. Cracking open the box, he took out a cleansing wipe and handed it to Zuko. “Use that for the blood. I think it’s kinda weird that your first reaction is ‘it’s cute in here’ and not ‘wow, Sokka, I can’t believe your dorms are less than half the size of where I live, isn’t that strange and probably terrible?’ Like, doesn’t that sound weird to you?”

“When you put it like that.” The wipe’s packaging was ripped open, and Zuko pressed the wet material to his nose, the cloth going from white to a pink in a matter of seconds. “I can’t really do anything about it, though, can I?”

Sokka had gotten up from the bed and to his mini-fridge, delicately picking up a forgotten and frozen over tub of half-eaten ice cream and holding it out to Zuko. “Well, you can tell your  _ dad  _ that we’re not his subjects and we - maybe - deserve nice, fancy, swanky-as-hell places to live too.” A pause, Zuko taking the tub from his hands and holding it to his nose, sighing out of relief. “Or something like that.”

“Or something like that. What makes you think he’ll listen to me?”

“You’re his son.”

“Huh. You’d  _ think  _ that’d meant something.”

They both went quiet, Zuko keeping his gaze to the ceiling as Sokka sat back across from him. Sokka’s eyes wandered around, bouncing from Zuko’s neck to the desk behind him - the back to Zuko. His skin had flushed from being punched and the pain that had followed suit, and he had opened his mouth to breathe easier, a low groan coming from his lips ever so often. Then, Zuko repositioned himself, his jaw - a bit less sharp than Sokka had thought, but still - lowering slightly as he sat up gently, then sat back dow. Sokka’s phone buzzed besides him, its’ screen illuminating to show a large picture of whoever had just texted, and both pairs of eyes immediately turned to it. 

Azula’s face had come onto the screen, a new text right underneath.  _ How did that feel to do? _

Zuko stared at the photo and his own face contorted: his eyebrows furrowed, lips turning downward and the tub of ice cream dropped from his hands. “Is that my sister?” A rhetorical question, unable and unwilling to be answered. Sokka didn’t answer, instead resorting to swallow heavily, unable to bring his eyes from the phone. “Sokka.”

The other boy nodded, slowly, then finally looked up at Zuko. “I-I can explain. And I mean that, this time, there’s an actual - an actual explanation for this.” 

He spoke a little too late - Zuko had gotten up from his seat and stormed to the door, muttering profanities under his breath. “ _ You  _ got me punched! You and - and - and my sister? My  _ sister _ ?! Really, Sokka.” Sokka ran after him, scrambling to his feet and following him, his hand pressing against the door as if he could keep it closed.

“It’s… it’s not what it -”

“Get out of the way.” And when he didn’t move, “my nose may be broken, but my hand isn’t.”

After a pause, Sokka moved and stood aside. Zuko opened the door, and it closed behind him, slamming before Sokka could do anything to stop him. With a sigh, Sokka leaned his forehead on the door, and as loud as he thought Zuko would be able to hear him, he said, “It’s bruised!”

* * *

It stung, seeing her face on Sokka’s phone. More than stung, even - it ached. Zuko felt as if his heart had been ripped out in some way, although he didn’t even know Sokka all that well, and stomped repeatedly into the ground. He’d just met the boy, and didn’t even really want to talk to him - that was all Azula’s doing, and  _ this  _ was all her doing as well. The only common thing in both situations, the party and now, was Sokka. Sokka talking to Azula. Sokka interacting with, having a conversation with, looking at Azula. That stung, and then the stinging became aching, and then the aching stayed in and pressed against his chest.

He didn’t know where he was walking. The road just felt like it belonged, like it was meant to be walked, and he didn’t stop until he finally looked up - Iroh’s shop.

For every reason, his uncle’s tea shop felt like home more than the apartments. There was a constant warmth that greeted him whenever he walked through the door, whether it be from his uncle’s beaming smile or the smiling faces that immediately turned away from him when he came through. Tonight, his uncle was closing up, the last of the students walking past Zuko and whispering to themselves, and Iroh turned his head and gave Zuko a large smile. Tonight, that would be the source of the warmth, and Zuko would, for a moment, allow his worries to wash away.

“I have a problem, uncle.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after hearing of her brother meeting azula, katara becomes more intrigued with what's happening between zuko and sokka. then she runs into azula herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a really short chapter, but it's been in my head for a minute!!

She’d been a straight-A student for as long as she could remember. Well, as long as  _ anyone  _ could remember. Back home, Katara’s walls were decorated with medals and awards, certificates that had been neatly pressed and framed. This one read  _ Perfect Attendance _ , the one on this wall proudly stating  _ Fourth Grade Scientist  _ from when she’d won a science fair. The medals were from national spelling bees, math competitions, even the occasional debate tournament she’d competed in. Actually, she’d done it all - nothing had been left unturned, untried. And with everything old, the new things seemed to come almost naturally to her.

It was no wonder that she’d gotten into the university, the elite-of-the-elite surrounding her (and her brother) with every turn she took on campus. It was no wonder that she had quickly surrounded herself with friends who matched her mind, taking some of her knowledge for their own and allowing her to do the same with theirs. No wonder she was at the top of her class, on the dean’s list for the third time in a row, with no one touching her - except for Azula.

Azula, who was constantly a step behind her. Who was always on her tail, just inching towards her metaphorical golden medal. Though they hadn’t taken any classes together, Katara would hear of her constantly: her friends whispered to her about Azula’s progress, about what classes she was taking and the rumors they heard from  _ their  _ friends about the multiple, multiple rumors surrounding Azula’s GPA. And though the numbers varied, they were always high. Always alongside Katara’s, or higher. It only pushed Katara to study more, to do more work and take on more than she could chew - but she got it done, even though she didn’t particularly understand or know how.

And then Sokka started talking about her brother.  _ Obsessing  _ over Zuko, to the point where his name and different details about him had become stuck in Katara’s head; and with Zuko immediately came his sister. Suddenly she began seeing Azula everywhere, hearing her pitched laugh and her clipped words. Suddenly the conspiracy that Sokka had, in Katara’s mind, created, became a reality for her, and kept returning to her, with a specific focus on Azula. Suddenly, when Azula had contacted Sokka, the interest finally got to her, and Katara had become more invested than she had ever thought, or wanted to be.

After her brother had spoken with Azula, he’d told her right away. Animated gestures and all, he spilled the whole story to his sister, doing an exaggerated impression of Azula before taking a few breaths. 

“So… you’re not gonna do it.” Katara’s words came slow, as if she didn’t believe what has happening. He knew she was still a bit skeptic about the whole ordeal, and it showed so plainly on her face.

Sokka groaned loudly, leaning back until he fell back onto his bed. His head turned and he looked back at his sister, her arms folded over her chest, her weight shifted to one side. She stared at him, her eyebrows furrowing - and he matched her expression. “No, I’m gonna let this opportunity slip out of my grasp, like I should’ve done all along,” and after a while of silence, “Of  _ course  _ I’m gonna do it, Katara! I’ve been waiting - literally - all day for this information… this  _ lead _ ! I was right about everything: Zuko’s lies, that there’s something going on with him, that he’s hiding from everyone, and there’s no telling what it can be -”

“But… you’re not actually.. going to lie to Liena, are you? Like - that’s just something you’re hypothetically gonna do, just to get Azula on your side.”

“I wouldn’t put it past Azula to  _ not  _ keep an eye on me. I’d really think she’d know, if I didn’t, y’know?”

There was some silence. Katara’s gaze hit the floor, and her lips twisted downwards. Sokka sighed, and she knew that he had stopped looking at her.  _ Probably rationalizing, probably going against rationalizing, probably letting go of reason _ , she thought somewhat bitterly. Finally, she sighed and shrugged. “Fine. There’s probably not any other alternative, unless you find Zuko yourself - which probably won’t happen.”

“Great. Because it’s happening today.”

With that, the conversation ended. Katara began to work on homework, sliding herself into Sokka’s chair until he’d gotten up and left, passing a  _ wish me luck  _ over his shoulder. Then she left, leaving his room empty.

It was a few hours until Sokka had texted her. Twelve times. About how Zuko had come to Sokka’s dorm, how Zuko had bruised his nose (with an emphasis on the  _ bruised  _ part), how Azula had texted, and Zuko had seen. Then, a final text came in:  _ come over, asap!!! _ . Almost immediately, Katara moved from her seat and started towards the door, swinging it open and locking it behind her. 

She stopped in her steps, staring straight ahead. Across from her room, was the common room; and in the common room sat Azula and a lone resident of the dorm. 

Azula glanced up at her, and her eyes widened - slightly - before pointed towards Katara, ushering her over. “Ah, if it isn’t  _ the sister _ .” She spoke the last words as if it were a title, something Azula herself had come up with exclusively, the only person to call Katara that with a sneer in her voice. “I’m sure you heard about my  _ studying  _ with your brother?” Looking towards the stranger resident, her hand waved away, and the resident quickly gathered her things and left. Then, Azula quickly returned her gaze to Katara, who had moved slightly closer but kept a distance away from her chair. “Did he tell you what happened?” Not a question, for the answer was already known.

Katara nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing towards the girl. “Of course he did,” she paused when Azula hummed, her smile growing. “So, what’s the deal with it? What’s your endgame in all of this, because it seems that you’re not getting anything out of this, except for a few laughs.”

“I thought you didn’t care about this little game.  _ This  _ has surprised me, but I’m sorry to tell you - the spots are all full, and there’s no room for spectators.” 

“It’s my brother - both our brothers. I need to know where this is going so I know when to pull  _ my  _ brother out of your nonsense.” Katara became irritated, struggling to prevent herself from raising her voice, showing any more upset than she already was: her voice was becoming came firm and unwavering, and her hands were already beginning to clench into fists. She knew that Azula had noticed, or would eventually.

Azula stood silent for a moment, then exchanged a glance with the wall in front of her. “Tell you what,” she spoke slowly, her fingers tapping on the seat’s arm. “We end this conversation here, and you keep some of your emotional dignity.”

“What?” She almost cracked, Katara’s exclamation coming a little louder than she had wanted, or expected. Her hands loosened, though her voice kept strong. “Do you even  _ understand  _ where I’m coming from? I don’t think it’s –”

“You’re right. It’s  _ not  _ a lot to ask for. The thing is that I’m not asking at all. I’m  _ telling _ you – we end the conversation here, and you never bring it up again. Not with me, not with Sokka. Also…” She paused for effect, looking back at Katara, who’s face had began to soften, a sliver of what she was feeling, evident on her face. “We both know how they feel. We also both know how you and Sokka have been finding test answers and making copies of them.”

“We’ve never -”

“We  _ both _ know of what’ll happen when I tell my father of what’s been happening, how you’ll both be sent to his office, probably kicked out, the little incident permanently on your transcripts.”

“Azula. You wouldn’t do that.” She knew this was false. Katara stared at Azula, who had stood from her seat and walked closely to her, her gaze equally trained on Katara’s.

“I might. I’m asking something  _ very  _ simple: you keep your mouth shut, you keep your place in this school.”

The tension was almost suffocating Katara, but the risk was high. Azula wasn’t bluffing - she knew that. She didn’t have much of a choice, didn’t she?

“Fine. I won’t say anything about it.”

Azula clasped her hands in front of her, a sweet smile forming on her mouth, and she stepped away from Katara. “Great. I assure you, your cooperation’ll greatly appreciated.” With that, she turned away and walked out of the hall.

Katara watched her leave, slowly becoming aware of the buzzing in her pocket. Sokka was calling. Quickly, she picked up, giving a hollow  _ hello?  _ into the receiver.

“Katara! I thought you were dead, I was about to alert someone or something. What’s taking you so long to get over here? I asked you, like, two hours ago!”

She paused, checking the time, then giving a short, irregular laugh. “Shoot, I guess you’re right. Did everything go okay?” He sighed, then was silent. She thought for a moment - the texts! “Oh, wait,” she corrected herself, “you sent it all to me…. how do you feel?”

“Well, it’s all kinda messed-up right now, y’know, with Azula calling and…” Sokka paused again, as if he were thinking. “Did something over there happen?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Your voice.”

Katara imagined how her response would go.  _ I know how you’re starting to feel, and I know you also hate Zuko but everything you’re doing is just to ––  _ “No, things are okay! I’ve just turned in something a little late, got worried about it. The usual stuff.” 

Sokka gave a  _ hm _ , then an affirmative answer. “If you say so. Anyways, I don’t know what to do now. Wait for him to call me?” When Katara didn’t reply, he continued. “Either way, I really appreciate you sticking with me through this - even if you think it’s crazy.”

“You’re welcome, yeah.” She sounded faraway, and she was. Her mind was racing, thinking about Azula’s threat and the secret she harbored from her brother. “I’m here for you.”

Her throat burned, the urge to tell everything almost choking her up.


End file.
